


Symbiosis

by Mthaytr



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Kink, D/s, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Vampire AU, bloodsucking, shut up it's hot don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mthaytr/pseuds/Mthaytr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ed, I need you,” Roy growls, bending forward until Ed can feel hot breath on his neck;  Roy pauses right before going in for the bite, ghosts his lips together across Ed’s jugular in a faint tease.  “Please,” he groans, and Ed can't hold in the noise he makes at the request.</p>
<p>Vampire au, werewolf!Ed and Vampire!Roy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tierfal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/gifts), [polarspaz](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=polarspaz).



> Heyyyyy guysssss
> 
> So it's been like. A year and a half. Since I last posted a thing. Hi. I missed you. :'D I haven't been gone, just -- hibernating. I guess :'D
> 
> Anyway this is the first thing of a reasonable length I've finished in god knows how long, so even though it's only moderately edited you guys get it anyway.
> 
> Dedicated to Tierfal, who is a daily inspiration and blessing to me as a writer and as a human, and also to Polarspaz on Tumblr, whose vampiric au inspired this fucker.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ed knows better than to be surprised by anything in his life, at this point -- or at least, he thinks he does, except then he’s being snatched out of a perfectly normal hallway to get his back slammed against the wall in a darkened supply closet, and Ed thinks a little surprise at that is fucking warranted, even if he does shortly recognize Roy’s smell, the silhouette of his form as he bends forward towards Ed, pressing his advantage. 

“Ed,” he says, and the word is so rough, so animal, so needful, that Ed’s insides heat up and liquefy and god the way Mustang practically holds him up is hot; not that he needs it or anything. Not that his knees have gone all wobbly and inconsistent or anything.

“Dammit, Mustang,” Ed says, and is proud of himself for even managing that well. “Give a guy a little warning, wouldja? You’re lucky I see so well in the dark, or I’da punched your lights out.”

Roy presses just a bit closer -- close enough to share body heat, close enough that Ed wouldn’t need wolf senses to smell him -- and the character of the air between them changes: that is to say, suddenly there isn’t any, or if there is it isn’t doing Ed a whole fuckload of good.

Mustang doesn’t answer, just locks their eyes together, and Ed suppresses a shiver.

“W-what’s with the closet,” he asks, unable to look away. “You got some kinda secret closet fetish or somethin?”

“Ed, I need you,” he growls, bending forward until Ed can feel hot breath on his neck; he braces for the impact, but Roy pauses right before going in for the bite, ghosts his lips together across Ed’s jugular in a faint, teasing simulation of the act -- then again, higher up, and Ed makes a high little noise he’s entirely too weak to hold in. “Please,” Roy groans.

Ed isn’t sure if the raw want in Roy’s voice is more sexual or predatory; maybe Roy doesn’t know either. 

The thought catches in Ed like wildfire; his returning noise -- helpless, shaking -- is all prey. Without permission, his head falls to the side, welcoming the hot trace of his lover’s lips, his teeth. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Edward moans, letting himself slump against the wall, weight resting against the hot thigh newly inserted between his own, and what do you know, he’s fucking hard already, and Roy hasn’t even done anything, the asshole. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Come on, bite me already, that’s -- haaah!”

Whatever else he had been about to say breaks off into a whimper as a hand tangles up through the plaited sea of his hair and clenches around it, jerking his head down, to the side; the pain of it, the heady sensation of being dragged, being forced, being needed so badly the niceties of human conduct were a side note, easily ignored. 

This, heady enough on its own, is nothing less than chemical in its explosive reactivity when combined with the unique and immediate vulnerability of having his neck so perfectly laid bare, and it culminates in a jolt of arousal so harsh it’s almost painful, overwhelming and perfect and absolutely fucking unforgiving, and there’s no mistaking the high, weak little noise Ed makes for anything other than need -- anything except maybe desperation. Roy hovers, mouth open, above Ed’s neck, savoring the thick heat of his lover’s anticipation for just a few moments too long -- Ed is writhing in frustration by the time Roy gives a low, satisfied chuckle and gives them both what they’ve been waiting for. 

The bite itself is sweet, familiar: a sharp, insistent pain followed by heat, too much heat, dripping crimson-gleaming trails down his neck and bubbling up from his stomach, and then Roy releases; the sharp pain turns dull, throbbing, burnished by the trail of Roy’s tongue up the path left by the blood, lapping it up vigorously, greedily, before latching onto the wound to begin a fluttering, gentle suckling that wrests another needy little whine from Ed’s traitor mouth. 

His heart racing, body a puppet to instinct’s unrelenting demands, he arches to press himself up against Roy’s hard thigh -- and god that’s good, it’s always good, but Roy’s mouth is hot and hungry and moving across skin that’s always been too sensitive and that hand in his fucking hair is liquefying his insides and he can’t even find it in himself to be ashamed when he begins a whimper that doesn’t stop, when he starts to rut up against Roy’s leg, the sensations chaining together like reactions, one setting off another and another until everything is burning and Ed is left clutching at the ashes --

“God, those noises you make,” Roy purrs into Ed’s neck, shifting himself just enough that his erection rubs against the blonde’s hip, his waist. “I love how quick I can get you moaning like a whore,” he says, and the hand that isn’t twisted through Ed’s hair slides up under his shirt to thumb at a rough nipple, and Ed keens, unforgivably loudly. Fuck -- god -- Roy’s tongue traces lazy curves up Ed’s neck and shit, shit, shit, he can’t take much more of this -- the tempo of his hips increases, bringing him up closer to that edge, closer still -- ah fuck --

And then, a hand down his pants, squeezing Ed’s cock hard around the base, and Ed wails, and he doesn’t give a fucking damn who can hear him.

“Don’t you dare,” Roy growls, and Ed sobs, his hips pressing forward, body a puppet to its own ravenings. “Don’t you fucking dare,” and fuck, no wonder Roy doesn’t curse very often: nobody’d ever get any work done for fucking wanting him. Ed does, wholly and without reservation. “You don’t get to come until I’m good and fucking ready for you to.” Roy is a fucking sadist, and Ed hates him, and loves him, and nearly shatters when the man leans in to Ed’s ear and murmurs:

“Not yet, gorgeous,” and rubs his thumb over the tip of Ed’s cock because he’s a fucking monster. “First, I fully intend to fuck you until you are hoarse.”

Ed swallows, his breathing unsteady and much-belabored

“How the hell do you fuck somebody till they’re --” he starts, but never manages to finish because Roy’s squeezing his balls hard, and the vulnerability of Ed’s position hits him in a flash as the sheer, electrifying sensation overtakes him from below, and he sobs like breaking, like begging, like shouting.

“You’re making good progress in that direction already” Roy says, and god right now there is nothing hotter in this universe than the smug tone of that bastard’s voice, or -- shit, no -- maybe thrill of adrenaline that hits as Roy spins him around, slams him face-first into the wall, and shoves his leather pants down around his thighs is actually fucking hotter, he stands co-fucking-rrected.

“I’ve been wanting you all goddamn day,” he says, low and hot and close enough that each syllable registers as a physical sensation in Ed’s ear; he breaks out into goosebumps, which only barely precedes his knees losing what little structural integrity they had left, and he’s smashed up between a steel shelving unit and what’s probably a fucking mop on the other side and he could be spread out on the finest satin bedsheets money or good sex could buy and it still wouldn’t come close to this -- to want, unvarnished; to the simple impossibilities afforded by two bodies together; to the stunningly affective magnetism between theirs.

“F-fuck,” Ed whimpers, and his desperation could be embarrassing if he cared at fucking all but that’s hard when Roy’s fingers are probing at his entrance, unlubed; when his tongue flicks out to taste the blood welling up again on his neck. “Don’t you have like -- other --” 

He muffles his own cry against his forearm as Roy’s fingers breach him, harsh and rough and everything he’s helpless to resist; he’s barely caught his breath by the time they draw back out again, and then the man’s voice hits his ear again. 

“Do you have,” a rough intake of breath as he shoves his fingers back, and Ed is undone, “any fucking idea what it’s like to try to do paperwork when all I can think about,” and the hand takes up a rhythm, unhurried and powerful, “is spreading you out across it, bending you over my desk and having you there?”

Sharp noises, as sharp as the sensation of fingers against his prostate, and Roy laughs, low, low, low --

“Do you know how loud you’re being?” he asks, his smirk spreading through the sweat at the back of Ed’s neck. “Everyone’s going to hear you if you can’t settle down, Fullmetal.” That last bit, added so deliberately -- Ed tries to muffle his stricken whine with the palm of his hand and fails fucking miserably when Mustang bites down on the lobe of his ear -- just hard enough to hurt, and oh, Ed lives for this, and Roy knows it. 

“Do you want them to hear you, hm?” There isn’t enough oxygen in the whole room to sustain them, the combustion sparked to brilliant life by that voice against every shivering molecule of Ed’s fragile form. “Do you want them to know how you beg for me? How hard I use you? How much you fucking love it when I do?”

Oh, oh oh jesus, he’s close, oh god he’d be over that edge already if it weren’t for Roy’s hand squeezing down around the base of his cock; even the scrape of paint against his hardness is too fucking much, and then -- 

\-- thick and slick-wet-hot with lube and sliding between Ed’s cheeks comes Roy’s own hardness, and Ed barely gets that moment’s warning before that cock splits him, and Ed’s shocked-shamed blush doesn’t stop his sharp, high wail; doesn’t stop him from crying out again on the next thrust; doesn’t keep his voice in his throat where it belongs as Roy growls into his ear:

“Good. I want them to,” he says, and thrusts again, and his groan as he does could be Ed’s undoing; the general pants, breath coming thick and fast now, and then moves again, squeezes Ed’s cock until that hurts too. “I want them to know what I make you into. I want them to know how utterly you belong to me.”

“Roy,” he gasps, edged with desperation, and he doesn’t care if it is begging; he has to; he needs it now, he has to come, he doesn’t know what will happen if he doesn’t and he doesn’t want to find out.

“Go ahead, love. Scream for me,” he says, and releases his damning grip; and Ed is almost there, but he can’t quite -- the pleasure overwhelming him is almost too much, he’s lost, drifting in it. The realization of what he needs comes all at once; he struggles through the proper words, throat working around each noise.

“Bite me,” he says, head spinning, pressing his ass back to meet Roy’s thrusts; “I can’t -- I need you to bite me --”

And Ed loses the capacity for human speech as Roy’s groan assaults him; neither of them have a chance to speak before Roy sinks his teeth back down in Ed’s muscle in time with another vicious thrust --

A hoarse cry --

And that’s it -- that is all.

*~*~*

“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Roy,” Ed says, once he’s recovered pressing the heel of his hand to his neck, where the blood from his fresh wounds has only just begun to coagulate. “You are one horny motherfucker, do you know that?” He flips the light on just in time to see Roy finish tucking himself back into his pants.

“Says the man who almost came just from getting bitten,” Roy responds, zipping himself up and then checking to make sure all necessary appendages are in place before turning and catching Ed’s jaw in his hand to smile at him, stupidly -- soppily, oh my god. Ed barely manages to remember to scowl up at the other man before he’s pulled into a kiss.

The kiss is -- tangy, tinged with iron, an idle sweep of tongues through mouths, giving pleasure even as they seek it. The taste of his own blood on his lover’s lips is as erotic as anything Ed has ever known, and he fails to stop himself from moaning into it.

Roy’s expression is insufferably smug when they finally pull apart, so Ed shoots back:

“Says the man who was apparently hanging out in a closet waiting for me to walk by, so he could drag me in with him and have his wicked way with me.” Mustang colors up, and the smugness transfers to Ed’s side of the equation.

“I was low on blood,” he defends himself, and Ed grins, filing the expression away in his memory. “The sun was starting to burn and I had been thinking about you all day and In any case,” he continues, without pausing to hear what Ed had to say about it, “I didn’t hear you complaining. I heard a lot of other things,” the man adds, pointed and wolfish and this time it’s Ed’s turn to go bright red.

“And probably so did everybody else in the building,” he mumbles, and Roy returns a sheepish laugh as he opens the door into the hallway. A furtive glance to the left, to the right, and apparently it’s safe to come out again because Roy steps out into the light, no trace of his vampire features visible now that part of him had been sated. 

“Ah, yes,” the general returns, trying valiantly to look dignified despite the blush and failing. “Yes. I -- tactically speaking, that was probably ill-advised.”

“Extremely,” comes a voice from behind them; they spin in unison to see Hawkeye, her brows arched almost imperceptibly, and oh god, fuck, she’s got two washtowels in one hand and a bandage in her right; she knows, she was probably party to the whole sordid event and Ed could have died right then, just melted the fuck through the floor.

“Captain,” Roy says, and Ed has no idea how the man manages to stay so cool through such abject humiliation, but he envies the skill -- his cheeks are burning, and the sooner sweet, sweet death takes him the motherfucking better. “Have I mentioned recently how much I value your loyal service and --” here Roy cleared his throat, his only concession to utter humiliation “incomparable discretion.”

Roy takes the towels and the dressing, and hands Ed his share, and Ed was way fucking beyond expecting the universe to be kind but maybe a mercy killing wasn’t too much to hope for. Sudden and painless, that’s the ticket.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, unreadable as ever. “Shall I inform the building administration that the deadly chemical leak that occurred in this hall at 1400 hours has been cleaned up?”

“Chemical leak?” said Edward, unable to shut his fat mouth, as ever. “Did people buy that bullshit?”

“I didn’t give them much choice,” she replied coolly, gaze sliding to lock onto Ed. “And if someone wasn’t quite so vocal --” Ed sputtered; how was this his fault?! “-- or someone else so absolutely insatiable, we might not have had to test their credulity quite so powerfully. Sir,” she added, by way of farewell, and saluted Roy before turning crisply on her heel to leave them in stunned silence.

After a few moments’ recovery, Ed choked out:

“Next time you wanna fuck me at work, just kill me first,” he said, bringing his hand up to cover his burning cheeks. “It would be faster. Oh my god,” he moaned, burying his face entirely in both hands.

“But you would be so much less fun that way,” Roy replied, and Ed actually yelped as the man’s hand snuck in to cop a feel. “Though not, I concede, no fun,” he added with the smarmiest goddamn grin as Ed leapt away, on the defensive. 

“What the fuck? Did you just make a necrophilia joke at me?! First Hawkeye, now you?” he accused, scowling above crossed arms. “I’m gonna fuckin burst into flames by the end of today and it’s gonna be your fuckin fault.”

“I can hardly help it, Roy said, stepping in to close the distance between them, bringing one hand up to card in Ed’s hair and guide it back, his chin up. “You are so very fun to tease.”

“Asshole,” Ed responds, and doesn’t object when Roy kisses him there, in the sunlight, where anyone could see.

*

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I am out of practice and nervous and any encouragement would be wonderful <3


End file.
